The Road too Far
by applecede1
Summary: Draco Malfoy agrees to safeguard something of Harry Potter's...at the same time agreeing to watch over Ginny Weasley.
1. The Deal

The boy prowled around the room restlessly. The boy reached a hand up and swiped viciously at the dark hair that had fallen into his eyes. Every so often, he would freeze, glance up, and his mouth would open, but then he would resolutely shut his mouth again and resume his pacing. His green eyes were as hard as the emerald, as bright and as enchanting because of the flickering emotions burning in them.   
  
The second boy remained seated in a chair by the fire, and he was absently shaking a cocktail glass. The second boy was handsomely fair - pale, perfectly shaped lips, elegantly winged eyebrows, and frosty light blond hair. He stared at the liquid and then tossed the glass into the fire, which gave a small leap of flames. He was sprawled in the chair, somehow making the posture seem both graceful and exultant. He cast a lazy, abstracted gaze at the boy, who had become even more nervous. The second boy, with his flinty gray eyes, made no move to prompt the words the other boy was so reluctant to spill. So they both said nothing.   
  
Harry Potter finally stopped moving and sank onto the windowsill. His black hair was stark against the white of the swirling snow against that hurtled against the window. His face was buried in his hands, and his lean frame was wracked with exhaustion.   
  
"I need a favor." His voice was muffled.   
  
Draco Malfoy's silver gaze flicked vaguely in his direction, but he was silent.   
  
"I need you to safeguard something for me," the Boy Who Lived continued. He stared blindly out into the empty white space outside. There was a break in his voice. "I need - it's something very important to me."   
  
"Why?" Draco stretched out his long legs in front of him. At Harry's confused look, he clarified, "Why ask me for help?"   
  
Harry turned away. "Because no one would think to suspect you. No one would think to look - here. And if they did, you wouldn't let them."   
  
"I wouldn't," Draco repeated flatly. "You think you know me so well, Potter?"   
  
"You saved me," Harry said hoarsely. "You saved my life."   
  
"It was a reflex." The boy rose and wandered over to the floor to ceiling windows. He remained a conscious distance away. "All right. You want to think the best of me, go ahead. I saved you. You want something. I think you should know that you've got it all wrong; I should be the one asking for things."   
  
"If you want to be that way…I saved your life, too."   
  
"Get over it. It was an accident that you saved my life. Your blasted Weasley friend said it, you're close to admitting it, I know it."   
  
Harry said nothing. Draco sighed.   
  
"What?" the blond haired boy demanded finally. "Out with it."   
  
"I have a…son."   
  
If he had still been drinking the martini, he would have spit it all out in an incredible display of indignity. As it was, he managed to contain the jolt of shock that seemed to paralyze him. The ability to conceal his reflexive emotions came with years of practice and would not be so easily cast away.   
  
Chasing away many imperative and relevant questions, he asked instead, "Who?"   
  
Harry blanched and echoed faintly, "Who?"   
  
"Whose child? It takes two to tango. You're eighteen years old and you have a son, and I want to know by whom." He curbed the rush of angry words that had pushed themselves to the tip of his tongue.   
  
"I - can't say."   
  
"Can't or won't," Draco said impassively.   
  
"Both." Harry's voice was a whisper. "I can't completely explain that…but Dumbledore suggested that I hide for awhile. Until the war really starts. It won't be for that long, but I'll probably be on the move a lot, and I just can't - I can't - " He steadied himself with visible effort. "His mother…she can't take care of him. Neither can I. And it's not safe for him - "   
  
"How old is he?" Draco interrupted.   
  
"One year old."   
  
"My God. That is very…" He searched for a word. "Amazing."   
  
"Yes. You have no idea. I was there, when he was born. I thought that maybe everything really does have a point…" Harry let his words fade. "Will you do it? Will you hide him?"   
  
"Can I just say that your explanation was as vaguer than hell? If you're trying to shove your son into my house, then you must be in some serious shit. And if you're trying to hide him, it's natural to assume that someone would try to harm your son. And I would like to know why and what in advance," Draco said dryly, brushing aside the heavy drapery. "Be a little more specific."   
  
Harry gritted his teeth, and when he spoke again, his voice was distant, hard, and matter-of-fact. "There is a traitor among us. Voldemort knows about my son. Voldemort doesn't know you saved my life."   
  
"Very nice logistics you have there, Potter." Draco applauded softly. "I can _completely_ follow your train of thought. You took a big jump in your thinking, apparently. Or you were drunk." He tempered the sarcasm in his voice. "You haven't asked me what was on my agenda, you know. I assure you, taking care of a one-year old would not fit well. By the way, I heard about your restrictions to the castle. Does Dumbledore know about your little excursion?"   
  
"No," Harry said firmly. "I don't want him to know. I don't want anyone to know. No one knows about this other than you and I. No one knows I'm here."   
  
"Very daring. You're either a complete believer in me, or you're very stupid. Or drunk," he added thoughtfully. "How dangerous for you to be on the grounds of a Death Eater…"   
  
Harry's face remained unmoving, but he swallowed hard. "You're not a Death Eater, Malfoy, and that attempt to intimidate me is wasted. You never scared me at school; do you really think you'd scare me now?"   
  
"Suppose not," Draco shrugged carelessly.   
  
Harry hesitated. "What did you plan on doing?"   
  
"Leaving the country. I'd probably stay in Europe though. Italy. France. Switzerland. Greece. Safe, familiar places. Anywhere's better than here. I've done my part in this war. We're just waiting on you now," he said sardonically.   
  
Harry watched him carefully; all he could see was the other boy's profile. "You could do more."   
  
"Do I want to? Do I care anymore? No, I don't. You're the hero, Potter not me. Nor do I wish to be. The heralding trumpets and drum rolls annoy me. Now, the free rein to do anything and do no wrong is appealing. The weeping women, the men kneeling at my feet - well, that I'm used to."   
  
"I don't have women - men kneeling at my feet," Harry sputtered.   
  
Draco smiled lazily. "Just joking, Potter."   
  
"You changed the subject. Why are you leaving England? The battle will be here; everyone knows that. No one cares that you - "   
  
"Do you have a point, _Potter_?" Draco's voice overrode Harry's.   
  
"You don't have to run."   
  
"I'm not running. It's just a little selective ducking," said Draco laconically.   
  
"Will you do it?"   
  
He exhaled and wished he still had his drink. He wished that he smoked; he'd heard it calmed the nerves.   
  
Harry was fidgeting. "Well?"   
  
"Shut up. I'm thinking."   
  
A long while later, Harry cleared his throat. "Are you asleep? Look. I'm sorry I pushed you on this. But I don't know who else - "   
  
"I'll do it," he cut in abruptly. "I'll 'safeguard' your son."   
  
An immense weight was suddenly lifted off of Harry's shoulders, and his face carried all the relief one could ever feel on his face. Draco looked away, annoyed.   
  
"Thank you," Harry said fervently. "Thanks, Malfoy. I - "   
  
"Shut up. I heard you." After a hesitation, he muttered, "What's his name?"   
  
"William Jamie Potter."   
  
"How long is this going to be for?"   
  
_Undetermined. As short as possible,_ Harry wanted to say. He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the cold glass. "Three years. About."   
  
"I know nothing about caring for babies," Draco informed him.   
  
"It's what I assumed." Harry half smiled, the first smile of any degree he'd had since he arrived at Malfoy Manor two hours earlier. "But I know someone who does. She'll be going with you. It's better for her, as well. Well - she can take care of herself, but she needs to be protected. She's important, Dumbledore said. I can believe it."   
  
"That wasn't what you said earlier," Draco said, fighting to control his irritation and impatience. "You neglected to mention this would become a three person party."   
  
Harry just looked at him.   
  
"What?" Draco snapped. And then, "Oh, goddamn. Who the hell is it?"   
  
"She's a Healer. You know how rare - "   
  
"I know how rare. _Who._"   
  
"She knows how to take care of Will - " Harry saw Draco's quelling glare and relented. "Ginny Weasley."   
  
"Weasley," Draco stated unequivocally.   
  
"You _said_ you didn't care for Pureblood and all that anymore," Harry reminded him, finally moving away from the window to pace in front of the fireplace.   
  
"I don't."   
  
Harry darted a wondering glance at him, his green eyes searching Draco's paler face. "Is there something I'm missing?"   
  
"Why does she need to be protected?"   
  
"She's a Healer - "   
  
"Potter, I bloody know that. That's not a good enough answer."   
  
"She's targeted by Voldemort. There have been over eighteen Death Eater attacks aimed at her - at her, through her friends, her family, her acquaintances. Know how many Death Eaters have tried to attack me? Seven."   
  
"You jealous?"   
  
Harry darted a glare at him. "Don't be stupid."   
  
"Not surprising though," Draco said thoughtfully. "They're saving you for the last of it. And you're too heavily guarded."   
  
"Don't change the subject." Harry frowned. "Is - "   
  
"Nothing that's of your concern," Draco said shortly. "Fine. She can come, as long as she stays out of my way. I find that very fair, considering I'm paying for her round trip to Europe's finest. Does her family know?"   
  
"Not really. No one will know where she's going except Dumbledore, you, and myself. And," Harry hesitated. "I don't want her to know Will is my son. Don't tell her."   
  
"What am I supposed to tell her then?" Draco demanded irritably. "Really, you're a pain in the ass, Potter. Do you think you could be a little more ridiculous? I'm going to be lugging a one year old and a Weasley around for Merlin knows how long and I'm supposed to tell her _what_?"   
  
"You're a good liar, I trust you well enough to think of something believable," said Harry smartly. After a moment, his voice was serious and pained. "Tell her he's your son."   
  
"Potter, I've never seen your kid, but I highly doubt he could pass for my son."   
  
"People only see what they want to see. Tell her that." Harry looked like every word was killing him.   
  
"So. Let's recap. You want me to call your son mine and fly him and a Weasley around Europe for three years."   
  
"It doesn't have to be Europe. But, yeah," Harry nodded. "Three years from tomorrow, we'll meet - we'll meet where we first met - you remember where?"   
  
"Oh yes," Draco's voice was factual. "I believe we met when I was being suited for robes in our first year. If something prevents us - or you, which is far more likely in my opinion - from getting there, what do you want to do about it?"   
  
"Find some way to get to me. And Malfoy - if I die - " Draco observed dispassionately that Harry's voice was firm, although he looked rather ill. " - if I die, his mother will go in my place. I'll have made sure she'll have known what happened by then. Malfoy…if I'm late - wait for me there."   
  
Draco looked sideways at him. "You know that you'll regret this right?"   
  
Harry drew in a deep breath and said stiffly, "I have to make choices."   
  
He continued to look at Harry's stricken face. He laced his fingers together behind his head and shrugged. "Suit yourself. Send the both of them over tomorrow night. I'll take care of the rest."   
  
Harry stepped across the room and drew his shimmering Invisibility Cloak around his shoulders with a trembling hand.   
  
"_Accio_ Firebolt," Draco said softly, and Harry's broom leapt into his hand from the stuffed chair. He held it briefly, looked at it, and tossed it to Harry. The former Seeker for the Gryffindor Quidditch team still retained his honed reflexes; Harry's hand snapped out and caught the broom deftly as he stared at Draco. The second boy nodded at him before physically turning away.   
  
"See you in three years, Potter." 


	2. The First Year

She stared hard at Harry Potter, trying not to let him see her fear that she felt was palpable. She had been fighting the overwhelming desperation and panic tooth and nail since last night, when Harry had wearily broke into her room and told her, in hushed whispers, that she would be leaving the following night for three years.   
  
"Or until Voldemort decides to make an earlier move," he had said grimly, his green eyes large and sad behind his glasses.   
  
"Who is this?" Ginny Weasley had gasped, ten minutes earlier, when Harry had folded her arms around a breathing bundle. Her brown eyes were shocked and alarmed, though she tried to veil it. "Harry, what - "   
  
"He's asleep. Hermione made a sleeping draught, mixed with his milk. That's Malfoy's son," he had said in a strained voice. "William. He's been hidden at school for the past year…take care of him, Ginny. Take _care_ of him, Ginny, it's very important. Promise me you'll take care of him."   
  
"Is he important too?" she had whispered, gazing down at the baby. His skin was so soft beneath her fingertips. "William…"   
  
"Yes, he's important." Harry's breathing had been ragged.   
  
Now, he had calmed himself somewhat. "You have to touch the Portkey, Ginny, it'll take you there straightaway. Remember, you mustn't send owls unless it's an emergency. Tell me if anything - if _anything_ - goes wrong. With you, Will, or Malfoy. Tell me. The owl will find me…Ginny, you have to do it, now. Hurry - "   
  
"Harry," she tried to organize her thoughts, shifting the baby to her other arm. "I can't tell Ron - "   
  
"No, you can't." Harry's face was heartbroken. He had never been one to conceal his emotions, and now Ginny felt his pain fuel her own, and it left her speechless - robbed of both words and breath. "Everything will be fine, I'll work it all out. Malfoy will give you an explanation."   
  
Her hand stretched out towards the Portkey, a goblet, and froze. She snatched her hand back suddenly. "I can't. I can't. I can't run and hide. People will need me, Harry. You can't ask me to run away, not now."   
  
"You don't understand! You can't be risked, not now. It's too dangerous - and you know. You _know_. If you stay here, they'll attack your family."   
  
"They'll attack to bring me out!"   
  
Harry opened his mouth to argue again, but his head suddenly swerved to the window of the Astronomy tower. Moving aside from the Portkey, she saw the steps of Hogwarts littered with eerie green lights. When Harry turned to look at her, his face was set.   
  
"Go. Now."   
  
"Death Eaters," she said. "Death Eaters. How did they get past the gates? Harry - Ron and the others, they're all asleep. We have to go warn them - "   
  
"They are not. Everyone knows; we've all been on guard lately." Harry's face was white. "Go, Ginny. Touch the damn thing!"   
  
"Harry," she said helplessly.   
  
"No time," he muttered, and looking at the baby cradled in her arms, he said, "In three years. Three years, and this will all be over. Gods, I wish - "   
  
Stepping back, he looked directly at Ginny. "Remember what I said. Malfoy will take care of you."   
  
He shoved her - not hard, but forceful enough - into the table. Her free hand fell to the wooden table in an attempt to steady herself, and her hand brushed the Portkey.   
  
"No!" she tried to scream, but the words were torn away from her in a soundless breath as the world tipped and spun around her.   
  
There was a loud, sudden sound that echoed loudly in the room and a mumbled expletive. She lay stunned against a full-length green couch. A fire burned steadily in the corner, the ashes smoldering. She instinctively glanced down at William, who stirred, but remained asleep. She surged to her feet, clinging to the baby, eyes darting wildly around the room until she found the source of the noise.   
  
Draco Malfoy, tall and lean, was opening the drawers of an elaborately carved desk, seemingly at random, rifling through its contents. He flicked a careless glance at her and straightened.   
  
"Well, you're here. Congratulations. Just sit there and be patient for five minutes."   
  
He bent over the desk again and opened another drawer.   
  
"There are Death Eaters attacking Hogwarts!" she raged, stumbling over to the desk in front of him. "I left - Harry made me, he pushed me - and there were Death Eaters that had gotten past the gates. We have to go back!"   
  
"No." Draco slammed a drawer shut and yanked open another. "We are going to Switzerland."   
  
"Those are my friends - my _brother_ - there at Hogwarts! How can you be so damn coldhearted?" she screamed at him.   
  
He stilled his movements and looked up at her away from the papers he was rummaging through. "Because Harry asked it of me," he said simply, and continued his search for Merlin knew what.   
  
"Harry?" She was frantic.   
  
"Yes, your precious Harry. With eyes the color of a 'fresh pickled toad.'" He eyed her. "How's the kid?"   
  
"Kid? He's your son."   
  
"That's right. How's Will?" Draco grabbed several papers and a seal, performed a shrinking spell on the items, and tucked them into his robes.   
  
"Asleep." She touched his head. "Malfoy, we have to go back. I don't know what you and Harry decided, but I'm sure he didn't expect that Death Eaters would attack tonight - "   
  
"For God's sake, Weasley. They've been expecting an attack for months, and you think they wouldn't expect one tonight? Gotcha, damned thing." Draco snatched up another object with relish and satisfaction. He strode around the desk to stand before her; she took an inadvertent step back. He opened a small velvet black box, the kind engagement rings were kept in, and held it out to her expectantly.   
  
She looked at the ring, befuddled and horrified. It was a beautiful engagement ring, one she might have dreamed of having. The ring was slender and elegant, a simple, silver band that twisted into a tiny rose with thorns. A single emerald dewdrop lay within the open petals.   
  
Draco was casting a hasty look around the room. She took another step back. "I'm going back to Hogwarts. You can have your son - "   
  
His hand snaked out and clamped around her wrist. Holding the box in his other hand, his thumb reached out and stroked the ring. He was smirking at her when she felt the lurch behind her navel, jerking her forward.   
  
Draco's hands steadied her when her feet touched the ground; it was a good thing he had because using two Portkeys within ten minutes had left her legs numb and her knees weak.   
  
"Now, don't hold this against me," he advised. "You're going to be around me for a long time. Might as well start fresh."   
  
"Take me back," she commanded, furious.   
  
Draco was already shaking his head as he lit his wand. "_Lumos_. No can do. This place has Anti-Apparition charms locked on it. I'm not giving you the Portkey that will take you back, and if you think you can fly back, well, let's just say it's going to be a long flight. International flight, you know."   
  
"Where are we?"   
  
"I told you. Switzerland. You're standing on Malfoy property. My mother had Lucius buy her a side of the mountain in the Swiss Alps. So, here we are." Draco strode away, the light from his wand retreating. She hurried after him, hampered by the baby in her arms.   
  
"He heavy?" Draco glanced down at her.   
  
"No." She'd be damned to let him see a weakness, even if it were something as stupid as not being able to hold a one-year-old baby.   
  
"Give him to me."   
  
Warily, she handed him over. She couldn't very well deny the git the right to hold his own son, could she?   
  
Draco's expression was curiously neutral as he said, "_Nox_" and tucked his wand away to receive Will. He looked down at the baby, and the expression on his face was one of odd tenderness. Then he seemed to feel her eyes on him, and his eyes were shuttered away again as he thrust the baby back at her. She felt as though a window had been shut, a window that had showed a million shining stars outside in the midnight hues of the night sky.   
  
"Don't worry about Potter. He can hold his own, and he's not alone. They'll be fine. The Death Eaters just wanted to show that they could get onto the Hogwarts grounds, nothing more. It won't be much of a battle." He continued through the room, checking the interior. "I've only been here once. I think this was my parent's honeymoon site. At least, that's what I assume. Maybe my mother had another lover. That would have been interesting."   
  
He flung open a door and declared jubilantly, "Brilliant. The bedroom. And…a huge ass bathroom. Bless my mother."   
  
"Where is she?" Ginny shifted Will to her other arm.   
  
"In hiding. Like we are."   
  
"Malfoy, Harry said you would give me an explanation?"   
  
Draco stilled. "Oh, did he?"   
  
"Yes. I want one."   
  
"We can't all have what we want. You and Will can share this room; I'll be down the hall. Did Potter inform you of your job on this trip? You're to keep yourself and Will away from me. Do that, and these three years will pass by in a flash." He snapped his fingers for emphasis, and she jumped slightly. He arched an eyebrow at her.   
  
She moved hesitantly into the musty room, but unarguably expensively and classily furnished bedroom. "Are we going to be staying here long?"   
  
"God, no. Too far from civilization." Draco looked pained. "Just until the Death Eaters and Snake face figure out that we're missing. Then we're leaving. If you're a good girl, maybe I'll let you pick where we go next. Do me a favor and wash up, will you? Going underground is no excuse to go slumming. But that wouldn't be much of a change for you, would it?"   
  
It was deliberate barb. She sensed that he was intentionally needling her, trying to find her weak points. She gave him a cool look, but said nothing. Although his face remained distantly impassive, she thought that maybe something in his expression had shifted subtly. He bowed low, pausing in the doorway.   
  
"Ask your questions later, Weasley. After your shower."   
  
And he shut the door.   
  
Author's Notes  
gilmorechick: I reposted "The Road too Far" because closed my Applecede account, probably because of ratings issues :) 


	3. Clever Malfoy

When she emerged from the steamy bath, Will was just beginning cry. She swooped him into her arms.   
  
"Are you crying? Don't cry; you're not alone."   
  
Will opened his eyes for the first time, she stared at the expressive, shining brown eyes as she absently smoothed the soft tufts of dark hair.   
  
"Your mother must have been beautiful," she whispered. "You obviously didn't get any of Malfoy's genes, thank God."   
  
Will stared up at her and gurgled. She smiled. "You must be hungry again. Let's find the kitchen, all right?"   
  
Gently bouncing the baby up and down on her shoulder, she found the kitchen, only to discover that it was empty.   
  
"Need a hand?" Draco was lounging in the doorway, his blond hair wet from his shower and slicked back. A towel hung around his neck.   
  
"Yes. I've never been brilliant at Transfiguration. I need to transfigure the cup into a bottle and the water into milk."   
  
He strolled past her. "Only had to ask."   
  
He did as she asked and even transfigured a chair into a baby seat. He leaned against the elaborately crafted sink, watching as she fed Will.   
  
"I thought Healers had to be exceptional at everything," he said finally, breaking the silence that was only punctuated by Will's constant gurgling and sucking.   
  
"If you'll recall your sixth and seventh year, I was in all of your classes except for Transfiguration and History of Magic. I couldn't figure Transfiguration at all, and it wasn't that big of a deal anyway. I'm quite good at Potions and Herbology and Charms."   
  
"Spare me the list of your accomplishments." He folded his arms across his chest contemplatively. "We'll have to get some food. Do you know how to cook?"   
  
"Yes, of course. Don't you?"   
  
"Never had to know," he shrugged unconcernedly. "I'll get the food, you make the food. You'll have to earn your way."   
  
"Fine with me. You can watch Will when I'm cooking."   
  
He grimaced. "I'll cast a sleeping charm on him."   
  
"No, you won't," she said sharply. "Honestly. Haven't you any idea how to care for a child?"   
  
"No," he smirked, unabashed. "Never had to know."   
  
"Now you do. How you could have ever had a child is beyond me."   
  
"We have the time. I can explain it to you, unless you're a slow learner and prefer the practical demonstration."   
  
She rolled her eyes at him. He smirked.   
  
Ginny distracted herself by focusing on Will. She could feel Malfoy's abstracted gaze on her, and she in turn stared at Will, who happily stared at the flickering flame of the lit candle.   
  
"Who's the mother?" she heard herself asking, still not looking at him.   
  
Draco frowned. Your guess is as good as mine, sweetheart. "That, Weasley, is my affair, not yours. Be kind enough to stay out of it."   
  
She flinched at his chilly tone. He stared at her, unmoved.   
  
"You have to tell me something, you know," she said, trying to keep her tone as calm and detached as he was. "Harry said - "   
  
"I don't care what Potter said," Draco said coldly. "You're here on a need to know basis."   
  
She slammed Will's transfigured baby bottle down on the table. "I am here whether you like it or not! I didn't ask to be here, you know. I didn't have a choice. I - "   
  
He interrupted her again. "And you think I had a choice? You poor, delusional little girl."   
  
"I am _not_ a little girl! You think you're so smart, Malfoy, and high and mighty, just because you're skilled in the Dark Arts and you became a bloody hero for turning over just before Voldemort declared war and for putting Lucius Malfoy under the Imperious Curse - "   
  
"You know _nothing_," he hissed at her, rising to his feet so fast he knocked the chair over. "Not that I would expect you to understand. You're a Gryffindor, you're a Weasley, you're too shy and too nice and too stupid to understand; of course you'd be a bloody Healer. Everything's black or white to you. Someone is either good or evil. I'm high and mighty? Wake up," he scoffed. "You parade around behind the hero's train and think you're so much better than everyone else because you can forgive. Forgiveness," he snarled the word like it was something ill flavored that had landed unwanted on his tongue. "Not every murder is undeserved, Weasley, everything is justifiable. And it's a fine time for you to learn that."   
  
Before she could reject that statement, Will opened his mouth and wailed. The darkness in Draco's eyes changed so quickly from fury to panic was laughable, and she would have laughed, but she was still trying to think of an answer.   
  
"For Merlin's sake, shut him up!" Draco snapped.   
  
"You do it," she retorted. "He's your son."   
  
He narrowed his gray eyes at her. At first, she thought he might cave in and comply, but he only stalked out of the room, leaving her alone with Will.   
  
--------------------   
  
Luckily for the both of them, Will wasn't too difficult for a one year old, and after a change of diapers - thank God she'd learned to do that with her wand - and a bath, he was asleep again. Ginny was exhausted and wanted nothing more but to drown herself in the bathtub before falling into bed, but she sought out Draco instead. She found him standing out on the porch, gazing out at the expanse of snow and craggy mountains made soft by the cold. His hands were in his pockets, and he stood stiffly erect although she knew he must be as weary as she. He held himself aloofly, as though he were afraid to slacken.   
  
"What do you want, Weasley?"   
  
So much for trying to startle him. She jumped and said irritably, "We need to talk."   
  
"We don't," he corrected immediately.   
  
She flushed. "Malfoy. We're in this together."   
  
"We are in this together as you say," he said dryly, "because Potter threw us together. He told me of - he didn't say you were coming."   
  
"I know you don't like me," she said, rushing on loudly, "but the reality is that I'm here with you and running away from the war."   
  
"We are _not_ running away from the war," he said icily. "We are taking a break from the war until we are needed. If it's all the same to you, I'd prefer that we not talk about the war. I don't care a damn if you want to talk about everything else, fine, talk away, but we aren't talking about anything related to the war. If you insist on doing so, I promise you, Weasley, your trip around Europe will have an impromptu ending. It will be a very short and sudden stop, and if you have any preference whether you'd like to be strangled or drowned, I'll keep that in mind."   
  
She glared at the back of his head. "Damn it, Malfoy, turn around and look at me."   
  
"Why?" His voice was soft. "I don't want to."   
  
"'We don't always get to do what we want; sometimes we have to do what we must,'" she quoted Hermione, and was struck mute by wistfulness and fear that had knotted themselves together so tightly she was dumb for a moment.   
  
"I'm beginning to feel like I must kill you."   
  
"Can't you ever be serious?"   
  
"When I feel like it." He leaned against the wooden banister.   
  
She stared at a point between his shoulder blades. "Fine. If you're going to be so unhelpful - if you're going to be such a prat - I'm leaving in the morning. I'll hike down the mountain and Apparate from there."   
  
"And how will you take Will with you?" he asked mildly.   
  
"I won't. He's your son."   
  
He finally turned around to face her, gray eyes glittering. "Harry asked you to watch him."   
  
Later on, she would look back upon this moment and realize that he had been subtly manipulating her - using Harry's name, alleviating his tone, catching her eye, gentling himself and his emotions - showing some vague emotion.   
  
He pressed on lightly. "You promised him, didn't you?"   
  
"No." She lifted her chin. "I didn't promise him."   
  
He arched an elegant eyebrow. "You didn't?"   
  
She shook her head.   
  
"I have to confess that I'm surprised. I would have thought he'd make you promise, and you'd promise because it's bloody Harry Potter."   
  
"He did ask me to promise," she said, swallowing shakily. "But I didn't have a chance to say anything."   
  
"How very noble of you. Your friend asks you to do one thing for him, and because you didn't verbally instate the words, it doesn't count." His lip curled.   
  
"You can take care of Will," she said, backing away into the door again. "You always say you're the best at everything; this shouldn't be a challenge. He's only your son, after all."   
  
"Do I?" he ignored her last statement. "I don't recall saying anything of the sort, ever."   
  
"Maybe you don't say it, but you can't deny you don't act like it. Good bye, Malfoy, and good luck." She turned, her hand on the doorknob, intending for to leave that for him to think on; it made for a good exit line. His voice and her name on his lips stopped her, made her hesitate.   
  
Later on…later on, she would recognize that he had also used her name deliberately, a calculation he'd worked out in his head and known she'd pause.   
  
"Ginny," he said. "Where will you go?"   
  
"Where else? I'm going back to Hogwarts to fight."   
  
"Good luck," he said lightly, turning away again.   
  
She lingered there on the porch, staring at his back again, before going inside.   
  
--------------------   
  
She slept on the sofa, and when she woke, she found a blanket draped over her. The cabin was silent; dawn was just barely breaking across the sky. Perfect time to leave. She considered saying good-bye to Will, but decided not to. Harry would understand; they would all understand. This was her choice; none of them had ever given her a choice.   
  
She was on the second step of the porch, stretching one foot out to step down, when it happened. There was a buzzing sound, and she was thrown sharply back so that she crashed into the front door. She took all of two seconds to react.   
  
She leapt to her feet and ran over to the edge of the porch again. There was a faint, thin gold line drawn along the step, and she followed it with disbelieving eyes around the borders of the porch. Apparently, it had been drawn around the entire cabin - along the pipes, the floor, the windows.   
  
_"This place has Anti-Apparition charms locked on it."_   
  
"Malfoy, you _bastard._"   
  
"Thank you," his voice said, and she spun around.   
  
He was as unruffled as ever, and looked as though he'd stepped off the pages of a Wizard model magazine.   
  
"You said," she said faintly, weak from anger and hopelessness, "You said you'd let me go."   
  
"You persist in imagining that I say things I haven't," he said, raising an eyebrow at her. "What I said was, 'good luck.' What I meant, of course, was that you'd need luck in leaving this place. If you chose to read something else…well, that can't be helped and isn't my fault."   
  
"The hell it isn't. What did you do?"   
  
He stretched and yawned lazily. "An Age Line, of course. You don't remember seeing one in your third year? Protected the Goblet of Fire from your nut brothers. Very simple. Let me explain - only people who are eighteen years old or older may leave this place. Which means, I believe, that you and my dear boy will remain safely in here. Of course, I worried that you might know how to remove it, but seeing as though you couldn't remember what it was, I sincerely doubt that. So, no problems."   
  
He had the nerve to smile at her beatifically. She was trembling from a deep-seated anger that gripped her and paralyzed her.   
  
His grin widened. "A lesson, Weasley. Don't ever be dumb enough to tell your escape plan to someone else."   
  



	4. Hiding by Running

The whisper overtook the crowd at Hogwarts slowly, gradually rising in volume, speed, and power like a tidal wave that crashed upon the shore.   
  
"Harry Potter is gone."   
  
"Harry Potter has left Hogwarts!"   
  
"Has anyone seen Ginny?"   
  
Ron Weasley's face was drawn tight and pale, and his shock of red hair seemed even brighter against the starkness of his face. He didn't seem to quite know what to do with himself; his tall, lanky form must have filled a thousand doorways that day as he searched the castle for the two people among hundreds that had gone missing since the war had begun.   
  
Hermione Granger watched him with a sort of terrified pity, trailing behind him at times in the hallways when she could find the time.   
  
They were walking silently down the corridor in the dungeons when he stopped suddenly and faced her blankly.   
  
"Hermione," he said weakly, "They're gone. They're both gone. They left me. They left us here."   
  
Something inside of her twisted, knotted, and clenched painfully, making all the breath in her come whooshing out. "Ron…"   
  
"They're gone," he repeated, bewildered. "Why did they go?"   
  
She stepped up to him and wrapped her arms around him. "Ron, they've gone into hiding, that's all. They're not really gone."   
  
"Of course not," he said slowly. "They wouldn't leave me. Harry, he - and Ginny. Charlie was always her favorite, but when we were little, we were close, we always played together. Gods, Hermione, what am I doing here? I'm supposed to be helping, I was helping Hagrid with the, the - the - "   
  
"The what?" she prompted.   
  
"I don't remember." His face was crestfallen, and he visibly shook himself. He looked down at her and gently extracted himself from her grip. "I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me. Where were you?"   
  
"I was - I was - I was following you," she said lamely, hands dropping to her sides awkwardly. "And I was helping Dumbledore and Flitwick charm the gates."   
  
He smiled faintly at her. "That's our Hermione."   
  
Our Hermione? There was only the two of them now, she thought wildly, and she found that she was prone to the aftershock of Harry's departure just as Ron was. Suddenly, she wanted nothing more than to sink to her knees and cry and cry and cry like a little child.   
  
Ron sensed her sadness. Of course he did. Seven years of being close friends gave him the ability. He touched her hand. "Don't worry, Hermione."   
  
"How can I not _worry?_" she cried. "Those are our friends! Ginny, she's my friend as well! And Harry - "   
  
To her utter amazement, she burst into tears.   
  
Ron looked horrified, and he hugged her tightly, if not awkwardly, and made vague soothing noises.   
  
After a long while, her sobbing ceased, and he was relieved when she flashed him a shaky smile.   
  
"Really, that was silly of me." She wiped at her eyes quickly. "I know they're all right. They're together, and Harry wouldn't let anything happen to either of them. I know."   
  
"That's good," Ron said softly, patting her head. "That's good to know."   
  
_I'm not very good at writing letters and saying what I think in them; one time Ron told me that no matter what happens, I'll always be a little silent on what I feel and think. But I had to try, so I decided to write you a letter.   
  
I sent Will off last night. I think you know. Mothers always do, Mrs. Weasley told me that. He looks so small, for a one year old. He has your eyes.   
  
I know now would be the right place for me to tell you how sorry I am. I don't think I can ever say how sorry I am. I wonder if you'd believe me if I told you it was because I thought it was for the best. I made the decision, you know, not anyone else. I kept it all to myself - maybe that's what Ron meant, that when it comes down to the most important things, I keep it to myself.   
  
I hate this war. You're the only one I ever told that to. Everyone else, they never asked me what I thought. But I hate it. I hate how corrupt everything is, I hate how I don't know who to trust, I hate that.   
  
Now I don't know what else to say because there are too many things I want to say to you - I want so badly to write your name, to print it a thousand times. But it's too dangerous. There's no way anyone could get this letter, but it's still too dangerous.   
  
I remember what you looked like that night. You wore a black dress that wasn't all black, and you had let your hair fall over your shoulders. You kept pulling up the hem of your dress to show me your new shoes; they sparkled. I don't think I'd ever seen anything so beautiful before that night.   
  
You laughed when I stuttered and tripped over the step into the Three Broomsticks, and I thought I'd die, but you smiled and kissed me.   
  
I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm so sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I love you I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry_   
  
Harry Potter's hand clenched around the edge of the letter, intending to crumple it, but for some reason he couldn't bear the thought. Instead, he moved sharply and jerkily towards the edge of the cliff, bracing his hand against the rock. He watched the letter float from his unresisting hand until a wave reached up and snagged it down under the ocean, a tossing blanket of frothy white foam.   
  
He bowed his head against the rough rock, feeling it scratch his cheek. His hands felt chalky and he imagined he was dirty all over.   
  
Three years, his brain chanted silently, three years. He raised his head just in time to see the sun, a ball of flame, become swallowed by the sea - for an instant; the whole world was aflame with peach, orange, red, gold, and crimson that bled across the sky. The water had turned blinding, and even when he closed his eyes, he could see the ruby red waves moving against his eyelids. When he opened his eyes again - and the emerald of his eyes was striking against the setting - the sun had set and his body ached all over.   
  
Day one had passed.   
  
Draco sighed. Ginny had ignored him for the better part of the morning, and while she had looked after Will, she was obviously furious with him. Not that he cared; it kept her out of his way and let him think.   
  
But after eight hours of straight thinking, he wanted to jump off the mountain. Every two hours or so he would hear the baby cry and after a moment, Ginny would soothe him or feed him or do whatever she did to quiet him.   
  
After the tenth solid hour of pacing restlessly and thinking - although his thoughts now were more random and unbalanced - he gave up. He went to find Ginny; he wasn't so desperate that he'd sink to talking to himself, but he'd settle for a Weasley.   
  
She didn't say anything even when he sat across from her and cleared his throat. She was staring into a cup of tea and blowing lightly at the steam that rose, wafting it several inches away from the pink and yellow cup before it dissipated.   
  
He frowned and folded his arms across his chest and made a sound in his throat impatiently. "Ginny, don't be unreasonable."   
  
She drank her tea silently, and he saw that her knuckles were white where she clutched at the blasted teacup.   
  
"This ridiculous," he told her harshly. "You're being incredibly selfish, do you know?"   
  
She set the teacup down with enough force so that the tea sloshed dangerously over the rim and leveled a glower at him. "Malfoy, I've accepted as you obviously have that we're just not going to get along, and believe me, I've cried rivers. Now I just want you to leave me alone."   
  
His lips quirked unconsciously. "For three years?"   
  
Her own lips tightened into a line and she didn't bother to respond.   
  
He tilted his chair on the back legs and contemplated her emotionlessly, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Harry has gone into hiding, presumably a few hours after you and I did. I would assume he left the country, although he isn't exactly known for his brilliance, and I can't say for sure. Will is my son, and I'm bringing him with us because I trust no one else to take care of a Malfoy's son. We're going back to Hogsmead in three years to meet with Harry because, apparently, that's when the war really starts. Harry asked me to hide you. Dumbledore doesn't know. No one knows. I don't think I've forgotten anything."   
  
"Why?" she asked softly.   
  
He said noncommittally, "You are important, Ginny. There's no sense in having you die early in the war. You're meant to play a turning role in this war. And you need to recognize the fact that you're making a sacrifice, but it's in no way larger than the sacrifices Potter has to make." He shrugged his shoulders lazily. "I may dislike Potter, but I'm still objective. I see his side of the story, and I pity him. It's not that difficult."   
  
Ginny sat back in her chair, openly studying him. Malfoy was clever…second in his class, after Hermione. But she wasn't thinking of his skills as a wizard so much as she was, for the first time, seriously considering Malfoy was a person. He played manipulation, as his cards, and he employed to the highest level. She had the strong impression that he thought about everything he said before actually saying the words; he calculated every angle, every line and step, every breath and tone and look in his eyes and on his face.   
  
"If anything, you have to trust me and I have to trust you," he said simply. "There isn't another way around it. I know; I thought long and hard on it, believe me. Just accept that I can't tell you anymore right now. I don't even know the whole story. Harry's probably the only one who does, and as we all know, he's gone MIA."   
  
"All right…Draco," she said quietly, folding her fingers. "I'll trust you."   
  
Draco pushed himself away from the table, and he touched her on the head briefly as he walked around her and out of the kitchen.   
  
The room stunk of foul and unspeakable things, the man thought morosely. Drafty it was not, but it made up for that a thousand times over in the polluted smell. His robes felt soiled, and he thought that his every pore was dirtied. His eyes were jaded; his hands tainted.   
  
"How do you think he is hiding, my Lord?" Lucius Malfoy was asking as he furrowed his brow in hard thought. "Do you suppose he has a Secret Keeper?"   
  
"Don't be absurd, Malfoy," Professor Severus Snape snapped irritably, discreetly wiping his hands on his black robes.   
  
Lucius turned a chilling stare upon the Hogwarts Potions Master, the man whom he did not completely trust, and responded slowly and clearly, "And why is that such a preposterous idea that you would call me absurd? Harry Potter is a _Gryffindor_," Lucius sneered, "He will no doubt have entrusted one of his closest friends to guard the knowledge of his whereabouts. One need only seek out those select few and force them to confess what they know. The Mudblood Granger, or the Weasley."   
  
"The chances that you could even draw within ten feet of a Hogwarts student at the moment is nearly impossible," Snape said just as coldly. "And think, Lucius, for Merlin's sake. After that mess with his parents; do you really think Dumbledore wouldn't have kept that incident in mind?"   
  
"So you say Potter's still at Hogwarts?" The expression on Lucius' face said that he himself clearly thought otherwise.   
  
"No, of course not," Snape said smoothly. "I think he has gone into hiding. In fact, I'd almost swear it, my Lord."   
  
"Do you, really? Almost?" Lord Voldemort mused. "You must be quite sure then, Severus."   
  
Snape inclined his head in a deferential manner.   
  
"So how is he hiding?" Lucius demanded.   
  
Snape widened his black eyes. "Why, the traditional way, of course. By running."   
  
"Severus has a point," Voldemort cut in abruptly, before Lucius could open his mouth. His red eyes gleamed, and for a moment, went very, very bright. "I believe he may be right. Harry Potter is running, but he is not so hidden that eyes will not see him. Alert the ones loyal to our cause. Alert them to watch for a boy with black hair and green eyes and a scar upon his forehead. Alert them to wait for Harry Potter's arrival."   
  



	5. Athens

She sensed him behind her - not a perceptible movement, but the scent of him, the smell of his lemony cologne and the smell that was uniquely Draco. He rested his hands on her shoulders briefly before moving to her left and following her gaze to the same stars she was focused on.   
  
"Look," she pointed vaguely at the vast glittering space. "Out there, they're looking at the same sky I am. The same stars."   
  
"Think the stars are brighter here though," Draco said critically, tilting his head.   
  
She smiled a little. "You're probably right."   
  
"I'm always right."   
  
"I'll disregard that last statement in honor of the occasion that Will has finally gone to sleep after spending the better part of today in a constant state of hysterics." She covered a yawn with her hand and shivered. "Switzerland is quite beautiful."   
  
"Yes, it is." His eyes were focused on her face. "Very beautiful."   
  
"Yes," she agreed dreamily. "All this pretty white snow and bareness that isn't really barren. Strange how I don't feel alone."   
  
"You have Will," he said. "And me."   
  
"Yes," she said again. "How nice to have the both of you here…"   
  
"Ginny, you're tired." He nudged her in the side. "You're exhausted, in fact. You're not making sense."   
  
"Concerned, Draco?" Her voice was offhand, and she turned away from the stars.   
  
He was tall and pale and glittering, like a sharp, sharp diamond that would have blinded her if not for the darkness of the night. She shivered as the frigid wind swept her body.   
  
"Hardly." His voice was equable, and he seemed to straighten as he turned back into the cabin. He held the door open at an angle so that the warm light from within dropped a few feet outside onto the porch. "Just an observation."   
  
She looked at the rosy glow and back at him. "Hold the door, I'm coming in."   
  
"By the way," he added as an afterthought as he held the door for her and she walked past him inside, "I forgot to mention this - we're leaving in the morning."   
  
"Leaving," she said bewildered. "Where?"   
  
"Yeah, I haven't decided that yet." He frowned as he latched the door - more so out of unconscious habit than planned necessity. "What do you think: Athens or Venice?"   
  
"I don't know. I've never been to either place before."   
  
"I have. They're both nice. I considered Paris, but it's not really my cup of tea, so that'll be among our last stops. Or maybe it won't be a stop at all. No, never mind, I've decided. We'll go to Athens. That'll be fun."   
  
"I'll take your word for it."   
  
He gazed at her placidly. "You won't have to. Tomorrow you can decide for yourself how well you like it. Good night, Ginny," he added politely over his shoulder as he walked away to his room.   
  
--------------------   
  
The owl interrupted him at a most inopportune moment, but the message it carried was so incredible, so awesome, so _advantageous_ that he stopped the Cruciatus Curse on the worthless Mudblood wizard, who collapsed unconscious on the ground, limbs twitching spasmodically.   
  
No…he couldn't believe it. The Dark Lord would be thrilled; the Dark Lord would reward him graciously and lavishly…   
  
Harry Potter had a son. He sneered at the thought. The great Harry Potter had a son…who had conveniently disappeared around the time Potter himself had gone into hiding. He'd heard rumors that the youngest Weasley had also gone missing, but that wasn't any of his concern. It made sense that they would go underground; they were the key players.   
  
He knew right away that he would go and hunt after the child himself, of course. Trained Death Eaters were on the trail of Harry Potter, for he was an easier target to sight, but the child - the child would be more difficult; it would be easier to hide. But he was more than adequately suited for the task.   
  
Even as a child, his own son had shown potential, and he had been pleased by it, pleased by all that his son's untapped power promised. As he matured, Draco had shown insight, skill, and natural talent for the Dark Arts. Lucius never knew what made his son turn against him - son no longer - all he knew was the rage that had ate his insides when he was trapped under Draco's powerful and unbreakable Imperious curse for nearly a year before Draco commanded Lucius to say the wrong thing…   
  
He would have sent Draco after Harry Potter's child, if he could.   
  
Harry Potter's son would be something Lord Voldemort held dear, and Lucius Malfoy would make a personal investment in the cause. And he would garner the rewards in spades.   
  
He was so close to being happy that instead of uttering the word, "_Crucio_," he lifted his wand idly, leveled it at the crouching Mudblood, and kindly said, "_Avada kedavra..._"   
  
--------------------   
  
Athens was not fun. Athens did something to her, something unspeakable and indefinable. Athens was splendidly magical in its simplicity, and she marveled at it. The people were hard working laborers, tanned from their physical toils, but they smiled cheerily as she and Will and Draco walked by. Draco looked as pristine as ever, and she wondered at the curiousness of him liking Greece.   
  
He carried Will for most of the day, shifting the baby to one arm as though he weighed nothing while he signed the necessary and appropriate documents that would rent them a room at a small hotel.   
  
"Best to let them think of us as a family," he had said.   
  
"Why doesn't Will speak?" she asked, sitting cross-legged on the single bed, gazing at the little boy who was fascinated with the bubbles she had conjured.   
  
Draco stepped out of the bathroom. "I don't know. He's had a hard time."   
  
Ginny touched Will's satin cheek. "He's gorgeous, Draco."   
  
Draco said nothing, just leaned against the mini bar. "You two can take the bed for tonight."   
  
She nodded. Draco disappeared for three hours, reappearing for twenty minutes to call room service up for the three of them, eating, and then leaving again. She entertained Will, letting him watch the small television with twelve channels until the baby fell asleep. Feeling that their hotel was relatively safe, she locked the balcony doors and the front door as she left, after she had set up all the applicable charms and wards she could think of around the baby.   
  
Her head ached, and she hadn't wanted Draco to notice. He'd given her a curious sideways glance at dinner, but hadn't said anything so she assumed he'd been wondering why she hadn't eaten much. She'd told him that she didn't like crab, and he had seemingly accepted her response after saying that crab was a "delicacy" and to "get used to eating it" because apparently, Athens specialized in crab.   
  
She made her way down cobbled streets to the place where stone gave way to sand and sea grass, threading her way through celebrating tourists, laughing and dancing in the streets to music so loud she could only feel the bass and drums reverberating through her body.   
  
Athens. A pretty, clean, coastal town. "Underdeveloped," Draco had called it, but still nice, seemingly untouched by civilization. She liked that. Athens wasn't that far from the coast; she could tell by a thousand little things - the smell, the wind, the air.   
  
She gamely trekked her way down to the beach, following the line of partygoers. Several male teenagers stopped her, but she managed to extract herself from their attentions with a polite but frigid smile she'd once seen Narcissa Malfoy direct at a man in Diagon Alley, several years ago. She'd always marveled at the expression, and she secretly delighted in brushing off the rowdy boys.   
  
The sand was still a little bit warm from the heat of the sun, but cooling rapidly, and she cleared a spot on the sand, smoothing it out with her foot, before sitting down. Occasionally, a particularly large surf would spray against her face, but she didn't mind. The salt seemed to clear her mind.   
  
"What's happening back there?" she wondered softly.   
  
"Much less than what you're imagining, I expect."   
  
She craned her neck to see Draco standing off to the side, hands in his pockets, looking down at her amusedly. "Have you been out here the whole afternoon?"   
  
"Mostly. I dropped by the room; by the way, did you realize you set up the ward on the door wrong?" He arched an eyebrow at her. "Imagine my surprise when I attempted to open the door, only to have bubbles explode in my face. Not very repelling, is it? Of course, I suppose your intent could have been to have a potential intruder scream in surprise. Ah." He nodded understandingly. "It all makes sense now."   
  
She flushed red. "I was a - a little distracted."   
  
"Sure." A pause, and then, "He's asleep, by the way."   
  
"I expected him to be. He's not a very rambunctious kid. Sweet, though."   
  
"Debatable, but I'll let it go."   
  
She was beginning to feel his self-possessed stare disconcerting, so she coughed hastily and said, "Aren't you going to sit?"   
  
"What, in this sand? No, thanks."   
  
"How'd you know I was here?" A note of teasing slipped into her voice. "Spent some time searching for me, did you?"   
  
"Actually," Draco's voice was humorous as he tipped his head at her, "I cast a Locating charm on that."   
  
Bewildered, she glanced down to see a tiny gold pin with emerald studs fastened to her shirt.   
  
"Didn't take me more than five seconds," Draco added smugly.   
  
She glared at the pin before yanking it off, successfully adding a tear in the sweater. She chucked it at him, but his hand snapped up out of his pocket with unbelievable speed, and his fingers closed around the pin, disappointingly, several inches from his face.   
  
He laughed at her. "Nice try."   
  
She ignored him as she retrieved her wand from her back pocket, pointed it at the hole in her sweater, and uttered a repairing charm before jamming the wand back into her pocket. "You suck, Malfoy."   
  
He laughed again. "You're going to have to come up with better insults if you want to get a reaction."   
  
She only lifted her shoulders in the faintest semblance of a shrug. "I did get a reaction."   
  
He stared at her, half unaware that he was doing so. Her slim frame shivered, and he finally moved towards her, dropping his coat around her shoulders.   
  
"Why are you being so nice?"   
  
Her voice broke the silence and washed over the both of them. He didn't break his gaze, only rolled his shoulders backwards.   
  
"Don't mistake practicality for concern, Ginny," he said shortly. "I think you'd better return to the room. Will might wake and find you gone."   
  
"He's down for the night. Draco - "   
  
"Good. I've rented another room in another hotel…so don't wait up for me."   
  
"Draco," she said sharply, before he could, she suspected, Disapparate. "I thought we agreed to trust each other."   
  
"I fail to see the point of that in this conversation."   
  
"You - " She fumbled for the words and settled for, "You can't be that cold."   
  
"Trust and like can be kept separate, you know," he told her. "I trust Potter, but I don't like him. And vice versa."   
  
"And that's applicable in this?"   
  
"Haven't the faintest idea. Good night, Ginny." He touched her cheek with the back of his hand, and to anyone who might've been watching, they would have assumed it was a caress.   
  
Yes, his touch had been warm enough, gentle enough, but it was simply that - a pat on the head or shoulder. A touch that promised nothing, that was nothing except a movement to fill some empty space. A gesture made for lack of anything else to do.   
  
She wanted to catch his hand and turn it so the palm faced her. She wanted him to hold her and tell her that everything would be all right. She wanted him to tell her that Harry was safe, that her family was unharmed, that her friends were alive. She wanted him to _reassure_ her because, goddamn, he knew more than she did. She wanted someone else to know how she felt - how bloody useless when she knew for a fact that she wasn't. She wanted to give some of her hopelessness away; she wanted someone to ease the weight that pulled her under.   
  
She looked from his shoes to his face, startled at the knowing look in his mercury eyes. Draco _knew_. He knew what she wanted from him, and he wasn't going to give it to her. Whether it was because he didn't know how, or couldn't afford to, or didn't want to - she didn't know - it mattered little.   
  
He looked at her, his gaze clear, his voice crisp, and his words simple.   
  
"Sorry."   
  
"For what?" she whispered.   
  
"For not having Potter's hero complex, I suppose."   
  
His hand fell away from her and he Disapparated.   
  



End file.
